Who Let the Muggle in Here?
by Psycotaco
Summary: After a magical mishap causes death and destruction in the muggle world, the Prime Minister takes matters into his own hands. Takes place several years after the Epilogue.


Captain James Morrissey, aged 65, six feet tall and as fit as a high school track star, stood on the bridge of his ship, the _HMS Vengeance_ as it cruised through the violent waters of the Baltic. Patrol wasn't much fun, but he always loved the feeling he experienced when standing in the heart of his vessel. The feeling he experienced when surrounded by the magnificent machines that run the show and the even more magnificent officers who run the said machines. He felt safe. He felt at home.

His father, God rest his old soul, would be scared witless by the conditions of the sea that night, if he were still alive. Not a month prior, James himself would also be terrified, but James learned a long time ago that it often pays to invest a little trust in technology. The European Union had just recently finished a complex web of magnetic streams that criss-crossed about the entire European coastline, from the icy shores of Finland to the warm Mediterranean. All one had to do was guide his ship into one of these streams, and he would be pulled directly into the nearest port, regardless of sailing conditions. This system, the Coastal Magnetic-Field Net, as it was called, was activated a week ago, and the _HMS Vengeance_ was the first ship to use it.

It was amazing. Waves that could topple the _Yamamoto_ crashed into the _Vengeance_ harmlessly. It seemed that the CMFN worked wonderfully. But Morrissey felt that something was odd.

Yes, something felt definitely…different, and not in a good way. He just couldn't place his finger on it.

Because of this, he almost wasn't surprised when the ship was knocked nearly on its side, throwing people everywhere.

He was thrown onto the floor, pushing himself up, trying to make sense of what had happened. Something had hit the ship, that was for sure, but the radar and sonar were both silent before the collision. There weren't any other ships in this part of the ocean, so then…what happened?

He wasn't alone in his confusion. The bridge was jolted alive from the sudden upheaval. People ran to and fro, asking questions and missing answers.

The ship rocked violently again. By Jove, this was no accidental collision, it was like they were under attack!

As James attempted to pick himself up, he glanced out the large bullet-proof window at the front of the bridge, and he saw _it_, or perhaps _them_. Illuminated by a flash of lightning were half a dozen enormous horse-like heads upon serpentine necks. Their eyes a deep amber and their mouths…armed with rows of dagger-like fangs.

And he swore, in that instant of shocked terror, standing atop the head of the largest monster, he saw a cloaked figure, arms outstretched to the heavens, screaming…

No. He was laughing.

* * *

"Mr. Prime Minister, you must remain calm."

Mr. Ross was calm. In fact, he was barely awake.

It was half past six in the morning, he had just walked into his office, and he now discovered that when the first thing your secretary tells you is to remain calm, you begin to feel panic seeping in at the edges of your mind.

In fact, at a time like this, evasion seemed like the best option…

"I agree wholeheartedly, Marsha. Remaining calm is very good advice in any situation. Do I have any appointments?"

"Yes, most of which include members of the Admiralty and some very distressed family members of crewmen who have just gone MIA."

Dodging the subject didn't go very far, Mr. Ross noted.

"The ship that we allowed the EU to use for that science project they set up all over the European coasts, the _Vengeance,_ has gone missing."

"Missing, Marsha? It's gone missing."

"Yes, Mr. Prime Minister. Here's the report." She placed a large manila envelope on his desk, over the _London Times_.

"I see." Mr. Ross desperately tried remaining calm. "Marsha, could you…check my messages, perhaps? I must make a few…personal calls."

She nodded and left. At the sound of the door closing, Mr. Ross deflated in his chair like a balloon. He unsteadily reached for the envelope and opened.

He scanned the first page. Than the second.

Radio reports of frequent collisions, no sonar or radar readings, and several reports of a large sea monster before the signal was lost. One even said they were under attack by the Loch Ness monster. It had to be pure fantasy.

Pure fantasy…of course.

With some effort, Prime Minister Ross pulled himself up and walked over to the large portrait of an old, graying man in the corner of his office. He couldn't believe he was doing this.

He knocked on the portrait.

After a few moments, nothing happened. Then, a voice emanated from the wall; "Yes?"

"I…I must speak to Mr. Horsely. It is urgent."

"One moment, please."

Mr. Ross stepped back, and the portrait swung open. A gnomish looking man wearing an overcoat and fedora jumped out.

"Good morning, to you, Mr. Ross. Please excuse my attire, I just walked in the door." He took off his fedora. "Chilly, this morning, isn't it."

"No small talk, Minister Horsely. I think we have a problem." Mr. Ross said the word "minister" with as much distaste as possible.

"A very large ship belonging to the British Navy has gone missing. This report," Mr. Ross waved the stack of papers, "claims that during it's excursion in the Baltic Sea, a rather violent storm first knocked out it's electrical systems, then drove it onto a reef, and since then the tides have pulled the wreckage far from the place where it sank, and so that is why the search and rescue teams have not pulled up any immediate wreck."

"That is…terrible, sir." Horsely's face gave away nothing.

"Yes, it is. However, I believe the reason that the ship has sunk and vanished has less to do with Mother Nature," Mr. Ross considered his next words carefully, "and more to do with circumstances you may be more familiar with."

The true meaning of Mr. Ross's words were hidden behind a thin veil of subtlety, but his cold tone gave it away. It was almost as if he were trying to make Horesly confess to a crime. The small man stiffened.

"I assure you, Mr Ross, that there is no magical connection whatsoever to this accident of yours." Mr. Horsely huffed. "You know that it is the duty of the Ministry of Magic to inform the Muggle leaders if any involvement between our two communities is about to take place, especially any that might include death and destruction…"

"Listen to me, Horsely," Mr. Ross's eyes and tone had suddenly turned cold as stone. The transition was so fleeting that Horsely stopped talking mostly due to plain shock. "I just lost a several thousands' pounds worth of investment, and I refuse to believe that a ship worth that amount of money was lost to a bloody _storm!_" Ross shoved the paper in front of Horsely's face, the page containing the panicked cries for help and detailing the mysterious assailant. "Now, I want you to tell me what this is and how it got there. Right. Now."

Horsely gulped. He had never been too bold in the face of threats or violence. That's why he took a job as a politician, where everything was underhanded and punches were (almost) never thrown. He gave in.

"That…Seven-Headed Grosnack that we told you was being imported a month ago…"

"Go on."

"It…it disappeared."

Mr. Ross smiled triumphantly, dropping his hostile atmosphere completely. "I see. Well, that's not good now, is it? A highly dangerous creature stolen from under your very noses."

"Our best men are still on the case, Mr. Ross…" Mr. Horsely managed to say, still trembling.

"Your best men…yes, it wouldn't happen to be those same men who allowed all of those murders to take place a few decades ago, Mr. Horesly?"

"That…That was different! You have no idea what it was like back then, with the Dark Lord returning and all that! This is something completely different!"

"But your so called 'best men' seem to be handling the situation in quite a similar manner." Mr. Ross stated calmly. Mr. Horsely reddned.

"I know what you're thinking, Mr. Horesly. You're thinking that since I'm a muggle, I shouldn't be poking my nose where it doesn't belong, and should just let you go on your way while I sit quietly and twiddle my thumbs. Well, that sure didn't happen in the past, and it isn't going to happen now." Mr. Ross turned on the smaller man. "This time, I want my own men in on the action, giving me the information, and letting me call the shots. Is that clear, Mr. Horsely?!"

"B-but the risks of-"

"Horsely!"

"Yes."

Mr. Ross smiled. "Good. Now, I must make a few calls. Good day to you, Mr. Minister."

Mr. Horsely all but crawled back through the portrait on the wall.

* * *

The noise stabbed into Willis Ryder's head like a stiletto heel. He jumped, than groaned, and than started swatting at his alarm clock in an attempt to save his eardrums.

His hand connected, and he felt the clock hit the floor. The noise went on.

Willis sat up. It wasn't the alarm clock. It was the phone.

He stumbled through his flat in a daze, knocking things over. The first thing he noticed was that it was still dark outside. He found the receiver and ranked it up to his ear.

"H-hello. Hello?"

"Good morning, Mr. Ryder, this is Janet, from the Interpol Office, USA."

"Yeah…yeah. Interpol…" Something clicked in his mind. "Did my application make it through?"

"Yes it did, Mr. Ryder. Congratulations and welcome to Interpol. The flight to your first assignment takes off in two hours."

"First assignment? Where? What? Already?"

"Yes, Mr. Ryder, you will be briefed on the way there. Have you ever been to London, Mr. Ryder?"


End file.
